Page 93 of Wicked Court

The sensation makes my pulse race, echoing the beat like some kind of drum announcing an impending battle.

“Sweetwitch.”

He reaches out to smooth the windblown hair away from my face. I’m too stunned to step back, my eyes glued to his as they flicker with something that borders on affection.

“Wild—” His name dies on my lips as he pulls me closer, his grip on my waist insistent. The world narrows down to the space where our bodies meet, every inch of his arousal pressed against me. His other hand slides lower, cupping my ass with an appreciative squeeze that sends a bolt of desire up my spine.

Our breaths mingle, and time seems to still, waiting for us to bridge the final gap. His lips hover just a hair’s breadth from mine, our first real kiss?—

“Um. Hi?” Sasha’s sleepy voice cuts through the thick atmosphere, and we freeze.

I’d completely forgot the open door behind me.

Wilder steps back, a growl of frustration rumbling deep in his chest. His eyes linger on me before he turns sharply and leaves without another word, then disappears down the stairs, leaving me adrift in the sudden silence.

Sasha mumbles something unintelligible and rolls over in her bed, slipping back into slumber as if nothing happened.

Typical. Even in sleep, she’s a terrible wing-woman.

But sleep eludes me.

After going through my nightly routine and sliding under my covers, I lie awake, tangled in my sheets, haunted by them.

Wilder’s presence lingers like a ghost on my skin, a phantom ache that echoes with each stroke. And then there’s Axe—quiet, enigmatic Axe, with so many scars. My mind drifts to the rugged terrain of his body, each mark a testament to Cav’s cruelty. It’s a morbid, awful quilt sewn on his skin that somehow draws me in.

But I can’t forget Cav and Kaspian, with their polished charm and cryptic smiles. I crave their attention, too, but it’s a want laced with trepidation.

They somehow seem more sinister, their presence laced with an aura of malevolence that surpasses even the likes of Axe and Wilder. Or perhaps it’s because they have deliberately shrouded themselves in mystery, refusing to divulge any information about their motivations.

They guard their personal reasons for pursuing the ruby with an ironclad resolve, leaving me to speculate. There’s Wilder, who’s haunted by guilt, seeking solace in proving his friend actually died for something, and proving his worth to a rich, elite society more cruel than compassionate. And Axe, whose lineage has been denied recognition in the Court and yearns for the respect and honor that this ruby could bestow upon him.

I’m still not sure how a gemstone can do that for them. Is it because until now, the ruby Heart was just a myth and proving that it’s real will give them closure? Or do they seriously believe there’s magic in it?

There’s so much I don’t know, and I really, really want to keep digging.

Cav and Kaspian’s motives are out of reach, but I’ve seen enough during our time together that their goal extends far beyond appeasing the Sovereigns. These men demand retribution, redemption, revenge, exacting their own form of justice.

They want their pound of flesh, too.

My once cherished friends on campus now pale compared to these men who mark my very being with their indelible presence. A stolen glance from Wilder burns hotter than a best friend’s embrace; a brush of fingers from Axe eclipses any playful touch.

The dark cavity of my room becomes a theater screen for my restless fantasies mixing with memories, showcasing scenes with these men who have somehow slipped past my defenses.

I had always sought perfection, yearned for predictability, but now I find myself craving the danger they represent, the excitement that comes with being part of their circle.

But…

As much pleasure as these boys promise, there is just as much bloodshed.

As dawn creeps across the sky, staining it with the first blush of morning, I know one thing for certain.

The heat beneath my skin is a siren call to which I’m helplessly drowned by, tethered to the mystery of the ruby and the undeniable pull of these men.

* * *

Sunlight filters through the sheer curtains, casting a golden glow across my eyelids.

I stir, reluctant to leave the world of dreams behind—a world where Wilder’s arrogant gaze sets my pulse racing, Axe’s careful touch ignites my skin, Cav’s commanding presence controls my breaths, and Kaspian’s cruel machinations draw cries from deep within me.

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